A Really Strange Fanfic
by The Lorelei
Summary: What the title says, a really strange fanfic. I wrote it a long time ago, but I still think it's kinda funny. Ya know, I think I eat way too much chocolate...


Alanna the Lioness, King Jonathan, Baron George Cooper, Queen Thayet, Faithful the cat (don't ask how he came back from the dead, I dunno), Verilidaine Sarrasria, Maura of Dunlath, Skysong the dragon, Brokefang the wolf, Lindhall Reed, Keladry of Mindelan, Nealean of Queenscove, Cleon of Kennan, Joren of Stone Mountain, and Owen of Jesslaw sat in a circle with Numair Salmalin in the middle. They had placed a truth spell on poor Numair and were asking him all KINDS of embarrassing questions.

Numair struggled, obviously wishing to avoid answering the question Thayet had just asked him, but the truth spell made him. "Yes--multiple times," he admitted.

Everybody tilted back their heads and howled with laughter.

"So, are you really Duke Roger of Conte in a bad rubber mask?" Alanna asked him.

Numair grinned and peeled off his face, revealing it to be a mask, and revealing his own face to be that of Duke Roger of Conte's. "Yes!" he said, and grinned.

Alanna blinked. "I'll admit that wasn't what I was expecting," she confessed.

After the scary music finished bouncing off the walls, no one seemed at all upset that a dead villian who had tried to steal the throne a. was Numair in disguise and b. was sitting right in front of them. Skysong, who had miraculously learned quite early in life how to talk, asked, "So, it is true that you were really in love with Alanna? We all agree that that dancing scene in Lioness Rampant was quite odd."

Everyone nodded their agreement.

"Ah, but yes," Numair/Roger said dramatically. "I am ever caught between my two great loves, Daine and Alanna!"

"Well back off, she's mine," George said grumpily. Jonathan snickered, and George glared at him. "What exactly are you snickering at?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Jon said hastily, and Thayet glared at him. (A/n: Hmm. Dis could get interesting. Read on! ^_^)

Suddenly a white horse with blue eyes walked in and I jumped out of the sky. "Go away!" I screeched at the white horse. "This isn't Valdemar, this is Tortall, you stoopid lost Companion!"

"Oh. Okay," the Companion said cheerfully, and disappeared. Nobody was bothered by this turn of events either, as they were all high on po...er, sugar.

Gift appeared, and thwacked Alanna in the head with her hoof. When Alanna turned around to glare at the strange unicorn, Gift cackled evilly and disappeared. "I'll be alright!" I announced.

"No you won't!" everybody else chorused. I glared at them.

"Per'aps we should bring the plot back in through the plot hole," Kel suggested.

"That won't work!" I screeched, clawing at my face. "Plot holes are like black holes, they suck everything up and you can't get it baaaack."

"Well make a new plot, then!" Neal suggested cheerily.

I grinned and hugged Neal. George glared at me, so I hugged him too, and Alanna glared at me. I stuck my tongue out at her and flounced away to go buy a new plot at the dollar store.

Telemain entered, looking lost. (A/n: I've been reading too many books at once. Can you tell?) "Excuse me," he said to the gathered group. "But I think I got the flabbergasm in the whojediwhazit in my transportation spell discombobulated, so I'm currently quite flabbergasted because I was sure I set it to the frazmawingerding, which would be where it needed to be, but now it seems as if I've set it to the teekmela. Could anybody help me?"

Numair/Roger jumped to his feet. "Certainly; I can help. All you have to do is take the flabbergasm and move it to the temonk position instead of the regular tebadalo position inside the whojediwhazit."

"Thank you," Telemain said sincerely. "I will keep that in mind. Say, have you ever tried moving the febewhoah in the flazzergibbitwheeeee to sugar high position? It's quite hyperifying."

Morwen appeared beside him. "Whoops, gotta go!" he exclaimed, and they both disappeared.

I came running back, triumphantly waving a slip of paper in the air. "I found it!" I called, then glared at my dear plot hole named Zeberabrawnkbobdoofus (don't ask). "Don't you suck this one up, okay?"

Zeberabrawnkbobdoofus grew a head and nodded. Daine gasped. "It's just a big darking!"

So it was. Zeberabrawnkbobdoofus dropped down from the ceiling and confessed it was actually a darking.

I glared at the assembled characters and read aloud from the plot:

__

"Delia escapes from prison and--hey, wait. You only paid ninety-nine cents for this, you cheat! You didn't paid a dollar, like yer supposed to! You don't get a plot! Nyah nyah nyah nyah!! :-Þ"

I glared at the paper in exasperation. "I thought I could skimp on a penny," I complained.

Just them the men in the white coats came and took me off to a nice padded cell, so the characters were free to do as they wanted in peace. Poof! Suddenly they all disappeared off to Pirate's Swoop. Numair/Roger accidentally got sucked up into the plot hole/big darking and disappeared, and the two characters were replaced with simulacrums that acted exactly like their old selves.

It was dinnertime. Jonathan got quite drunk and stood up on the table. He belched loudly and announced, "I would like to make an announshment."

"You just did!" Alanna yelled at him.

Jon glared at her. "I would like to make another announshment, den! I shay we all get nishe and drunk. I already am of courshe, but shee, for humor purposhesh of the writer that ish writing thish fanfic, she shaysh we should all get nishe and drunk. Sho whaddaya shay, my friendsh?!"

He promptly fell off the table into Alanna's lap. She put him into bed, tucked him in, and wished him the worst hangover in the world in the morning. Nobody got "nishe and drunk," besides Jonathan.

(A/n: Can you tell I have no idea where this is going? I'm making it up as I go.)

George died and Alanna cried,

Jonathan asked Alanna to be his bride.

Alanna said no, made Jon go out the do',

Jon got mad said "Alanna you big

Hey! Wait one second! I ain't gonna let you write that! Joren, you have a sick mind!

Joren promptly turned red and refused to admit he wrote that.

All of a sudden George really did die.

"Wait!" I yelled. "That's not supposed to happen!"

But see, it _was_ supposed to happen, because if it didn't happen, how would we follow the plot? It's a plot twist, duh!

Suddenly I looked quite freaked. "Um, waaait just one second..._I'm_ writing this fic...right?"

That's just it. You're _not_ writing this fic anymore. All of us characters have gotten tired of you abusing us. Now _we're_ going to abuse _you!_

"NOOOOOOOOOO!"

I heard evil laughter echoing off the walls and screamed. It was pure torture! They were going to kill me! Now I was starting to wish I'd never written some of those things I did about them!  


Lorelei?

"Um, what?" I asked, looking up with a terrified look on my face.

This is Numair. You like to pick on me, don't you?

"Um, well, kinda sorta not really, see, you're just sorta kinda fun to pick on, even though I like you and everything, and--"

Well, I don't like it! Particularly in this fic! I am _not_ Duke Roger in disguise! For another thing, I did _not_ *edited for the innocent eyes of young children* like you made me say I did at the beginning of this fic.

"Geez, I just made that up for humor," I complained.

Well, it wasn't funny, okay?

Yeah. Totally not funny.

  
"Wait, who's the new person?"

This is Daine. To tell you the truth, I'm really ticked off to think that you would have such a sick mind as to thing Numair would do such a thing.

"It was just for humor!" I yelled. "Leave me alone, okay?!"

NO!

I sat down and cried.

Ohhh Looreleeeiii?

I sighed. "Who are you and what do you want? And I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say my name like that. That's the way my mom says my name when she wants something." I shuddered.

I know, that's why I said it that way. But listen. I'm Alanna, and as for what I want, I'd _really_ appreciate it if you'd quit having George fall in love with you in your stories.

"Aw, how did you find out about that?"

We're in every story you write, so we know all about it.

"Hmph. I guess that's true."

But really. You need to learn to _be a little nicer to the characters in your stories!!!_

I swallowed. Hard. "Yes, sir! Ma'am!" I said quickly.

Good. Now, what do you think, characters? How should we torture her?

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Okay, I kinda left if off at a cliffhanger cause it was getting long. But don'tcha wanna know what happens now?! Huh huh huh?! How are they gonna torture me?! Ugh, I can't believe I'm excited over such a thing. And in case you're wondering what sick thing it was that Numair said he did at the start of the fic, don't EVEN ask. If you have a sick mind you can probably imagine it. *snicker* Anyways, r/r! You know the drill!

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DISCLAIMER:

Alanna, Jon, George, Thayet, Faithful, Daine, Maura, Kitten, Brokefang, Lindhall, Kel, Neal, Cleon, Joren, Owen, Duke Roger, Pirate's Swoop, Tortall, and anything else like that belongs to Tamora Pierce. I know that, you know that. So like, don't sue me, kay? Please? I don't have enough money to be worth

sueing anyways. Numair's sick deed belongs to him. And to the person he did it with. *snicker* Numair/Roger's Numair-mask also belongs to him. The nameless Companion belongs to me, though all Companions belong to Mercedes Lackey, which makes no sense. Gift also belongs to me since I play her in an RPG. Zeberabrawnkbobdoofus belongs to me (he's my pet plot hole). My crushes on George and Cleon belong to me as well. Telemain and Morwen belong to Patricia C. Wrede. The plot that wasn't really a plot cause I didna get one belongs to the dollar store I got it from. The Numair and Roger simulacrums belong to whoever made them. Whatever Jon was drinking that got him so drunk belongs to him. Sugar belongs to me, all of it. Sick minds belong to me too, all of them. Just kidding, I don't want all the sick minds. They belong to the people who have them. Joren's poem, which was invented by his own sick mind, belongs to him, just like his sick mind. Sugar belongs to me, did I mention that? Though a lot of it belongs in my stomach. My brain belongs to--wait, what brain are we talking about here? Did I actually say I have a brain? Geez, wonder why I thought that. This insane and immature story belongs to me. Ummmmm.....hopefully that's it! Buh-bye!  


And don't forget...REVIEW! Or I'll sic Gift on ya. And trust me, ya don't want Gift siced on ya.


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